11. Field Trip
Dax sneered at me. “You ain’t funny.”
CHOICES is the first book in the Chronicles of a Hero fantasy series. This is the story of Wendell P. Dipmier, who I’ve been writing about since 1990. I hope you’ll join me on this new adventure….as I tell the honest, complete story of this amazing 17 year old, exclusively on Life of Fiction.
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CHAPTER 11
Before I could blink, everything on the kitchen table came to life. Utensils and place settings stood at attention, while the pancakes shifted over, creating a perfect, uniform stack. To the left of where they stood, cupboard doors swung open wildly and empty containers leaped through the air towards the table.
“Best not to let the food spoil,” said Chuck. “Don’t want to be wasteful, now, do we?”
All I could do was slowly nod my head in agreement as the animated ballet continued. Container tops popped off while food promptly jumped in, adjusting to fit just right. Eggs slid over, sausages aligned like sardines in a can, and my untouched orange juice arched high overhead, jumping into an awaiting pitcher. Not a drop on the table, not a crumb on the floor. Within moments, everything neatly packaged itself nice and tight.
“Ok, help me,” Chuck stammered. Dashing across the floor, he hastily grabbed the egg container and orange juice pitcher, turned, and shoved them into my hands. “Here,” he whispered, “follow my lead.”
Dax rounded the corner, strutting back into the kitchen. He immediately skidded to a halt. “Heyyy, I thought it was MY turn to put the food away?”
The wizard shook his head firmly. “Nope. You have dishes.”
Dax scowled. “I did them last time.”
“Don’t think so,” Chuck replied. Placing an index finger on his lower lip, he stared at the ceiling. “Uh, nope. You have dishes. Besides, Wendell and I already put the food away.”
Dax looked between us warily. “No magic?”
Chuck stood upright and placed a hand over his chest. “Why would I use magic when I have Wendell here to help me?” he huffed. “Silly monkey.”
Grumbling, Dax yanked open a cabinet door and pulled out a stepping stool. “Good. If I have to do dishes manually, you better be doin’ the same.”
I was about to say something, but then I realized I didn’t have a good reason to do so. Why should I help the grouchy one, right? I decided to just grin instead.
“Here, son,” Chuck smirked, “I’ll show you where those go.”
I found Chuck to be a funny-looking man. For all his surroundings, it was curious that the wizard stood there, obviously comfortable in dingy, tattered gray robes. He had small patches on his sleeves and hem, all held together by a frayed rope around his waist. Yet he was clean…and there was always a faint scent of cinnamon around him. That hint of Christmas in the air when you visit grandma and grandpa. It was both weird and comforting.
Though with all the white, out-of-control facial hair that caught your immediate attention, Chuck had a semi-deep, gentle rhythm to his voice that made all the difference. He projected calmness, support, kindness, and acceptance.
With food put away and Dax dutifully working on the dishes, Chuck led me into the living room. He wandered over to the sofa and, with a kick of his sandals, hopped into the large leather chair with a poof. “Alright, take a seat,” he said.
“Aren’t we supposed to get ready for that field trip?” I glanced back at Dax, grumbling as he fiercely scrubbed a pan in the sink. He stopped to blow a soap bubble from his nose. “We probably have 45 minutes now.”
Chuck laughed. “Monkey has never been on time a day in his life.” He motioned to me. “Seriously, take a seat, son. We should talk.”
I took an opposite seat on the couch. It was difficult not to glance over at the small picture on the mantle…or stare at Kyliene’s face, framed and sitting near the piano. “You sure know a lot of people,” I said.
He looked around the room, laced his fingers behind his head, and sighed. “A few,” he said soberly. “Which is precisely why this chit-chat needs to take place. My job is to guide you. That means instructing you about that lovely lady embedded in your chest, yes,…but also the world around you. Many of the people I know need to be people you know.” He sat up and adjusted himself so we faced one another. “You need the ability to operate independently of any other influence, including me.”
Yes, I had questions, but that wasn’t something I thought I’d hear. Chuck wanted to empower me? I open my mouth to reply, but nothing came out.
“I know that might not make sense,” he said, “but I knew your father better than anyone.”
“You…knew my father?”
Chuck looked into my eyes, and his expression softened. “No one understands the responsibilities of that mantle you carry, Wendell. What your father had to sacrifice, or the secrets he was compelled to keep. He only shared his thoughts with those closest to him.”
He was so emotional, I almost wanted to blurt out the truth. To confess that I wasn’t the son of the last hero, but I couldn’t. This was a course I’d have to walk alone if that was what it took. Ithari chose me, for what reason I don’t know…yet. The good news now was that I had someone honestly wanting to help me. Freakin’ wooHOO!
“You know the term as old as dirt?”
“Sure,” I said, “that’s an old Earth…”
“No such thing as an original idea, remember? But here, in this world, they mean me.”
“That’s rude,” I laughed.
“Ok, only monkey says it that I know of, but he is right. I’m pretty crusty. Been around longer than most.”
That caught my attention. “Wait, a minute. Are you saying there are people older? Like, what are we talking here…”
Chuck rolled his eyes. “A few. Let’s stick to one question at a time or we’ll never get out of here. If we get some of these curiosity questions out of the way, perhaps I can get you to pay better attention to what actually matters?”
I sat back with a broad grin and motioned for him to continue.
He nodded. “Yes, I’m old. Ancient. Been around longer than any human. That I know of.” He thought hard, his eyebrows doing a wavy dance across his forehead. “Yup. Pretty sure, but using magic like I do kinda fogs the brain. Eats away at you. Which is what I wanted to mention.” He laced his fingers once more and rested them on his chest. “I’m not natural.”
“You’re what?” I laughed aloud.
Dropping his head forward, Chuck sighed. “Mahan’s Pink…what I meant to say was that I’ve used most of my magical abilities to carefully maintain my life force. It’s no small feat to keep Death at bay. As in THE Death. He’s an irritating fellow with a determination to escort guests to his estate. I’ve extended my life much further than perhaps I should have.” Then, looking up, he gave me an irritated glare. “I should be dead from old age. I just…refuse to die.”
Again, I couldn’t help but laugh. “That must be nice.”
“I’m serious!” Chuck snapped, though there was an unmistakable smirk on his lips. “Food doesn’t nourish me, air is more of a convenience, so I’m not gasping all the time, and I can hold my breath like no other.” His mouth twitched then. “I could bleed out, I guess. Death would love that for his side business!”
“Death has a side business?”
Chuck gave me a wide-eyed nod. “It’s insane. Word’s out he’s collecting the souls of politicians. Refurbishes them, I think, then sells them for some online company.”
“It’s BuyImmortality.com,” Dax shouted from the kitchen.
I looked over my shoulder. Those were some serious ears!
“Oh, that’s right. I knew that.” He waved a hand irritatedly, “What I’m trying to say is, magic is the only thing keeping me here. Well, that and sheer will.”
The wizard held my gaze without blinking.
“But…why?” No, wait. That sounded stupid. Okay, so Chuck knew the last hero. The guy they think is my dad. Fine. They were best buds. That’s fine too, but that didn’t tell me why Chuck would… I corrected myself. “I mean, why are you trying to stay alive when…” but I stopped again. Something in me felt compelled to look at the small photo over the mantle.
The corners of Chuck’s mustache rose slowly until the hairs brushed both sides of his nostrils. “When I’ve lost my family?”
My heart sank, stomach tightening into knots. “I’m…uh…”
“It’s alright, son,” he replied softly, but Chuck hesitated. “Hope you don’t mind me calling you that. ‘Son’, I mean. I lost my family a long time ago, before the last hero defeated and captured Mahan.” He shifted slightly in his seat. “That’s my past life. Lost both my wife and only child that day. All my possessions burned to ash.” His eyes turned moist, and noticed his hands trembling. “That was the only thing saved from the flames.” When he turned back around, he stared at me again without blinking. “A reminder of why I’m still here.” His sad expression shifted, the hint of a smile resurfacing. “I always wondered what my boy would have looked like. It haunted me. When you showed up and I knew you had the Ithari, I…”
“It’s alright,” I smiled, “I don’t mind. Really.” It’s kind of comforting, I thought, but I didn’t say it out loud.
Chuck grinned widely then. He wiped his eyes with a gray sleeve and cleared his throat. “Good.” Nodding at the kitchen door. “I raised that one in there. Not the easiest thing, being a single dad.” Snorting, “Would have been easier if he’d been a cute kid…to rope the women in, if you know what I mean?”
I laughed. “ I’m 17, Chuck. I don’t have a clue what you mean.”
“Oh. Right,” then, “When I lost my family, I worked closely with the leaders of the time. Even helped to defeat Mahan.” For long moments he fell silent — his gaze distant — until his eyes grew wide and his brows furrowed. “But they couldn’t kill him,” he breathed. “The Hero didn’t have the ability, or heart, to kill him. All that effort…so many deaths…and we couldn’t wipe Mahan’s sorry carcass from the face of this planet!”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
“You are so screwed,” Doubt taunted.
Shut up.
“I knew this time would come,” Chuck said, though it was just above a whisper. “I always knew it. So I prepared. Studied the ancient texts and even got permission to work within your Great Library for a time. That’s where I found it. A way to extend my life, so I could be here to help the next hero. To help destroy Mahan from the face of the land during these end times.” Clear blue eyes rolled up to meet my visual nervousness. “So I could be here for you.”
“I…need to pee.”
Like a waterfall, the sober expression of doom and gloom dropped from the wizard’s countenance. “Through the kitchen, down the hall, second corridor to the right, seventh door on the left.”
“Uhhh…”
Chuck winked. “Or you can use the one at the top of the stairs, next to your room.”
The sheer conviction in Chuck’s words, in his every expression, was…encouraging. He’s endured and waited all these years so he could help? What do you say to something like that?
As if on cue, the wizard smiled widely and winked at me.
“So you’re hundreds of years old then?” I fished.
“Older.”
“A thousand?”
“Older.”
I scoffed, “No way.”
“Way.”
“Two thousand?”
Chuck sat forward and shook his head. “That’s as far as I’m going. My past and my future are not completely decided yet, son. I don’t want it to interfere with what you have to learn to do. You have an entire world of weird in front of you. So, let me put it this way: I’m older than you. I know more than you and have insights that may give you an advantage. No guarantees here, and I don’t know everything about that gem, but I will help you. That’s why I’m still around. My loyalty is to you, son, and your mission with the Ithari, not the Iskari High Council.”
Usually when someone tries to lie to me, I can feel it. Something in my gut turns, or a fear sets in. My mind questions and I can’t let it go. Chuck’s words brought me…peace.
I asked, “Do the High Council and Delnar know where your loyalty is placed?”
He stood up and held out a hand. “They’ll find out soon enough.”
I’m not too sure how to describe it, but that last sentence sent a tingle up the back of my spine. It wasn’t fear, and it wasn’t painful. When it got to the base of my skull, I felt as if my brain had expanded. I know this sounds nuts, but Chuck looked different to me at that moment. Almost like I’d noticed him, or that my awareness of him clicked on for the very first time.
I could trust him.
“Thank you,” I said, gripping his hand firmly.
“Your father said the Ithari would allow you to tap into his knowledge, but he never said when.” Giving my hand a firm squeeze, he let go. “My plan is to prepare you for whenever that kicks in. If I get my way, you’ll have an unfair advantage.”
There was a loud crash from the kitchen. It was followed by what I guessed was swearing in another language.
Chuck sighed. “After I rescue the elf with eight fingers.”
“Come on, kid!” Dax yelled. “Can we go now?”
“Oh, let him have his moment,” rebuked the wizard.
It was my fourth time circling the picturesque cottage. Its thatched roof and rough timber framing matched the rickety picket fence encompassing the yard. Poorly matched stones formed its foundation, and the weathered stucco exhibited finger-wide cracks running up the walls. A chatty bird, perched on the chimney, watched us with interest. There was a cow tethered to the fence post, and a territorial rooster and a couple of hens chased me out of the backyard. Though it looked slightly off kilter, it was a quaint fairytale home.
Perfectly matched to the peculiar old wizard.
Which is why he was uncomfortable with my first official decision as the hero of the gem. He’d been the keeper of this dwelling ever since the last hero had passed, with instructions to give it to the new hero.
Since I wasn’t technically the heir, I didn’t feel right taking Chuck’s home from him. Plus, he knew how everything worked. I could do whatever I needed or wanted, but Chuck could make sure the Cottage ran properly. So I feigned ignorance and asked for his help.
‘I insist’ was all it took.
Even Jeb looked relieved when I’d expressed my wishes. “The staff will be delighted, sir,” he said.
It had been called ‘Chuck’s Cottage’ for nearly a millennium.
‘Chuck’s Cottage’ it would remain.
From the inside, I thought the dwelling had to be five or six thousand square feet. It was so spacious, sporting doors down the hallway outside my room. I’d yet to have the chance to explore the cottage in full, so in reality, I had no clue how big it really was. From the outside, it appeared to be twenty feet square.
After I’d circled it the first time, it just made sense to run to the front door and look inside.
“It really IS smaller on the outside!” I’d exclaimed, making Chuck laugh out loud. Doubting, I had to run around the cottage again, touching the walls with my hands periodically, just to make sure my eyes weren’t deceiving me. “This is awesome! Chuck, how…is this even possible?”
“That’s a boring question,” he called back, digging in his hat up to his shoulder.
It seemed humorous that the purpose behind this trip was mainly to get me new clothes. Especially when my companions were so obviously desperate for clothes of their own. It made me wary about what might be acceptable attire. What would they expect me to wear? I tried to picture myself in a long gray robe, like Chuck. The thought of being in a dress bothered me. Plus, Chuck looked as if he hadn’t changed his clothes in weeks.
Ok, years.
The two most prosaic features of that kind, old man, were the pointy hat and a gnarly dragon staff that stood as tall as the wizard himself. At least I think it was supposed to be a dragon. It wasn’t carved, I was told, but grown that way. Chuck seemed fond of both,…particularly his staff.
The hat was always on the wizard’s head. During meals, while cleaning, cooking, you name it. The staff, which stood next to him without aid, always seemed within reach. Rummaging through his hat, the wizard stopped at moments to talk…directly to the piece of wood — as if the thing were alive — and intelligent.
Then there was Dax. He didn’t seem to question his older companions’ sanity. There was nothing peculiar to him about Chuck having conversations with a staff…or a houseplant, for that matter. Which made me question the level of his sanity. I mean, he stood there in nothing more than boxer shorts. Bold, purple polka-dots resting atop over-sized, hairy feet.
Didn’t it bother anyone else that Dax ran around in underwear? I didn’t even know that it could be a thing. I’d already seen enough of his hairy back and miniature, rotund belly. Not a single member of the Iskari High Council had remarked about his lack of coverings. It just seemed crazy that no one had offered the guy a t-shirt at least.
Hmph. Suddenly the gray robes didn’t sound so bad.
Not paying attention to where my feet were going, I tripped over the sagging front steps of the cottage. It brought my attention to a large clay pot smashed on the path. Someone snapped the pot’s contents, a young sapling, in half and trampled it. I noticed tiny boot prints on the soil and across the leaves. It looked like a leprechaun had jumped all over it with a significant amount of hostility.
“Chuck? There’re tiny footprints here that…”
“What?” Chuck glanced over. He squinted, then waved his hand. “Leave it. Fred’s having another tantrum. Just ignore him.”
Dax snorted.
I frowned. Fred? Who the heck…is Fred?
“Got it!” With a yank of his wrist, Chuck pulled the port key free with one hand and a small cloth pouch with the other.
“Here,” he said, tossing the pouch at me. “Comes with the gig.”
It looked identical to the pouch Jeb had given me. It jingled when I caught it. Loosening the drawstring, I pulled it open and tilted the pouch. Several coins flipped out. The light danced off the beautiful gold and silver. “This looks like the bag my…,” I hesitated, “father left for me.”
“Same one,” Chuck said, plopping the hat back onto his head. “Can’t very well go shopping without coin.”
That made sense, but… “How did you get it?”
“Finally, a non-boring question,” Chuck replied. “That bag is bound to you. It’s one of many clever creations of the last hero attached to this estate. If you leave it behind, it’ll seek you out. You forgot to bring it, and I found it on the coffee table near the front door.”
It was difficult to wrap my brain around these concepts, which made little sense if it wasn’t for magic. This would have been perfect for my car keys. Or my cell phone. “What if someone else finds it before me?”
Chuck snatched the bag from my hand and shook it bottom side up. Nothing happened. He tossed it back. “Empty to everyone but you.”
Dax grumbled.
“How much is in here?” I asked.
“Don’t do that!” burst Dax, grabbing my wrist and flipping me round to face him.
I had forgotten how unbelievably strong he was compared to his small stature. “What did I do now?” I snapped, yanking my arm free.
“Time for the ground rules, kid,” Dax grumbled.
“But I just…”
“Shut up and listen,” he growled. “Do ya wanna keep yer skin or not?”
I almost yelled back, but what would that accomplish? Instead, I silently nodded my conditional submission.
“First rule: don’t act like a tourist. The Market eats tourists. None of this…” Dax held up his hands and made a mocking expression of surprise, mouth open. “Ya look like an idiot. Plus, every merchant there will empty yer pockets so fast yer head’ll spin.”
I looked at Chuck, and the wizard nodded in silent confirmation.
“Rule two: you stay in my direct line of sight.”
“Excuse me?” I said, folding my arms. “I’m not five years old.”
Dax grinned, bearing his pointed yellow teeth. “Do it, or you’re on your own,” he threatened.
He was enjoying this sick power trip.
“Rule three: Do what I say. No questions.” Dax stopped abruptly and leaned forward to glare up at me. His piercing, bloodshot eyes dared me to challenge rule number three.
I bit my lip.
“Ya don’t know what yer dealin’ with, kid…and yer a paranoid little boy who squeals like a girl. There’s lots o’ different people at the market and they all got their own agenda. Ya gotta be street smart! Take the vallen. They’re like dogs — some of ‘em are constantly barking. That’s ok, it’s just talk. It’s the silent ones that should scare ya.”
Alright, that made sense, but still. Gritting my teeth, I kept silent.
Noticing my frustration, Dax sighed. “Look, kid, I can guarantee Thule’s got eyes and ears in the market. I still think this is a bad idea…but you two are determined. Fine. Then if I hafta watch ya, I make the rules. It’s only ‘cause I don’t wantcha hurt. Okay?”
This was frustrating, yes. Was I fuming about it? A little. I felt like a kindergartner on a field trip. It was humiliating, and Dax knew it. The wizard nudged me in the arm. I nodded, “Fine.”
What else could I say? Until I made some new friends, these two oddballs were my only relationships. My only friends and my only chance of getting around or even surviving while I learned about this new world. It was going to take some time to piece together this crazy puzzle. There was no choice BUT to trust them…at least for now. At least in measure. As soon as I could figure out what ‘the hero’ was supposed to do — and how to do it — I’d have more options.
Tucking the coin pouch into the single pocket on my pants, I acknowledged Dax. “I’ll obey your rules.”
That shocked him, but he nodded back.
The wizard draped the port key chain over his neck. Dax stood next to him with a fistful of the robe in his hand. He motioned for me to do the same.
“The port key only works on the user and those in direct contact,” Dax said, “so hang on.”
I squeezed my hand of cloth until my knuckles turned white. To think that I had a problem with riding the bus to the mall. I couldn’t help but cringe at the thought. Now look at me!
As soon as Chuck placed the key in his open palm, a pulsing blue orb faded into view. It slowly rose, floating above the disc. The glee was clear in Chuck’s voice as he said, “Take a breath.” And then he smirked. “Make a wish and count to three.” Then he whispered into the orb.
“Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
Take us three and take us far—
Up above, the world so high,
To the Market so we can buy!”
Bracing myself, I clutched Chuck’s shoulder with my free hand and squeezed one eye shut. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this part of the trip. My first experience with teleportation didn’t go so well with Dax. I clenched both eyes tight…and clenched everything else.
“Easy there, son. No need for a death grip.”
“Sorry,” I said.
He patted my hand. “You’re doing fine. Let’s go register.”
I opened my eye to the flickering light. We were no longer in Chuck’s front yard. I hadn’t felt a single tinge, or shift, or anything.
“Move, boy,” grunted an old man bent over so far I thought he was picking something up from the ground. He shoved past me, leaning on a walking stick, leading two goats and a dog…who stopped long enough to sniff me.
We were standing smack dab in the middle of a massive cave…and we were not alone. Groups of men, women, children, even animals, appeared around us. Silently popping into view from…nowhere. The circular patch of ground where we stood was clear of the stalagmites and stalactites forming the perimeter. Strange symbols adorned the outer stones, while tall lamp posts with flickering lights cast odd shadows across the ground. “No electric shock, no falling sensation…just blink and we’re here?” I grinned, “That was easy!”
“What did you expect?” Chuck snorted, nudging me toward a tunnel. “Get moving, son. Don’t want just anyone popping in on top of you, now do we?” He snorted again. “Monkey here waited too long once, lighting a cigar. A yack popped right on his….”
“Shut it,” Dax growled.
“I’m just sayin’…”
We left the cave and entered the darkness of a tunnel, which made walking more difficult. I looked down at my feet, trying to put one foot in front of another, but the ground was uneven. People pushed forward, shoving me aside, and there wasn’t time to wait for my eyes to adjust. Twice I stumbled, and on the third, bumped against a stalagmite, almost knocking over a sheep.
My two companions didn’t seem to have any difficulty navigating the path. While I wished for a flashlight, or even a match, they swerved around obstacles like they’d done it a thousand times. For all I knew, they had.
“The guard fires will shed some light on the path,” Chuck called back. “Just around the bend now.”
Sure enough, an aromatic scent of wood smoke soon saturated the cool, moist air. Several small fires peeked around the rocks in the distance, sharing their light. Wedged into nooks, men in dirty, faded yellow tunics sat around the fires, staring warily at all who passed.
“Are they…homeless?” I asked. “I mean, I guess they don’t really look homeless — what with matching outfits and...”
“Don’t stare,” hissed Dax, pushing me along. His tone had an uneasy edge to it.
I hesitated, but couldn’t help eyeing the long blades strapped to each of their chests.
Dax kicked me in the shin.
“Ow!”
“SHHH!” He hissed again. “Rule three, kid.” This time adding a threatening look.
“Geez! What’s the big secret?” I asked, though I dropped my volume to a whisper. “I’m not trying to hurt anyone. Maybe I should know about this — ever think of THAT!?” Clamping my mouth shut, I made a mental note to learn about the men around the campfires.
The thought of exploring a new place in a new world was one thing. I was actually here now, and that meant being exposed. The talk over breakfast, specifically Dax’s concerns, was taking hold. I paid more attention to those around me. Especially who bumped into me, and what might hide in the shadows. Shadows pulling the walls in closer and closer.
Tha-Thump-Thump
I absentmindedly placed my hand over my chest, fingers feeling for the hard lump under the cloth. Breathe Wendell, you’ll be okay.
“No, you won’t,” Doubt taunted. “You know you won’t.”
Shut U—,….what is….
Unusual swirly lights flickered into view, then vanished. Others appeared, along the cave walls and stalactites. They moved slowly, like drips of glowing water, down the rock formations. A few of the shapes hung in the firelight, where I could see them. Giant bioluminescent snails the size of a fist.
Looking around to make sure no one was watching, I leaned down and poked Dax in the side of the head.
He looked up, annoyed.
With my eyes and mouth open wide in an exaggerated expression of awe, I whispered, “What are those?” and thrust a pointed finger toward the lights.
Dax sneered at me. “You ain’t funny.”
My snort echoed.
The path gradually inclined as the tunnel widened. We waded forward with the bottlenecked mass, up to a giant sign hanging from above. It read:
Port Authorities: You Keep the Law, We Keep the Peace.
“Port Authorities?” I asked Chuck in a whisper.
The wizard pointed with his staff as we waddled forward. Every time I tried to look where he pointed, someone or something jolted me. It was like pushing through a meat grinder of sweaty bodies, salted with animals. Finally, I saw the hanging sign in the distance.
Deposit Keys: It’s the Law.
What keys? I didn’t have any keys. It wasn’t easy, trying desperately not to look like a kid on his first trip to the zoo, but I found myself disappointed. Everyone around me looked…normal.
Sure, their clothing was different, but take most of the faces and put them in business suits or transform them into soccer moms, and they’d fit right in on Earth. Well, once you washed them, anyway. None of the people I saw were blue, and nothing truly out of the ordinary.
…which was disappointing.
Once you passed the sign, the tunnel opened into a crescent-shaped room. The dirt path became smooth tile warmed with red rugs, though it mattered little to the animals. People moved forward and then split into lines. Each line led to a counter, where a young man or woman waited with a smile on their face. Actually, I thought it looked a lot like a service window at a medieval bank.
A thin-fingered hand pressed firmly against my shoulder. The man wore a dirty yellow tunic, and he was sporting one of those long sheathed knives across his chest.“Wait,” he commanded. Dax and Chuck stood patiently as the party in front of them entered a roped line and walked up to the counter.
There was another man in yellow on either side of the entryway, as well as three along the path of ropes, each standing at attention. Olive skinned and dark eyed, each had raven hair and some version of a goatee. They reminded me of pirates, only cleaner…and without the eye patch or hooks. All armed with those long knives across their chests. Trying to avoid looking too conspicuous, I turned slightly and glanced over my shoulder.
The farmer next to me had two knives sticking out of his belt. Two robust men standing behind the farmer carried swords strapped to their backs. I turned back to notice two older women talking in line, rapiers attached to their hips.
“I’m thinking you’re under dressed,” coughed Doubt.
When a window became vacant, the guard gestured with his hand for us to move forward. I followed Chuck and Dax to where a pretty girl stood behind the counter, a beautiful, broad smile on her face. Chuck lifted the silver chain from his neck and placed the port key into a small black box between the girl’s hands. The young lady nodded at him and closed the lid. Across the glass window, the number three appeared.
“A party of three?” the girl asked politely.
“That is correct, my dear,” Chuck smiled back, then held out his hand.
Tenderly taking a hold of his index finger, she drew a tiny knife from a wooden stand and pricked it. Chuck placed that finger on the glass lid and pressed, leaving a fingerprint of blood upon its surface. The print slowly faded, leaving the surface spotless.
Dax hopped up onto the counter and followed suit by offering his finger and then pressing his it onto the glass.
I looked at the young lady, who smiled at me, holding out her hand.
I hesitated.
Chuck nudged me forward. “You’re holding up the line, son. It’s called a blood-lock. Don’t worry, it’s not a nefarious device. It registers us as legal occupants of the Black Market and saves our key until we’re ready to leave. Security measures. Now give the girl the finger.” He paused. “Your finger, I mean. You don’t want to give ANYone around here the finger…so just,” he tried again, then huffed, “Oh, just give her your hand!”
I snickered and did as I was told. With a flinch and a single drop of blood, I pressed, then watched it closely as it faded out of existence. When we left the line, I tugged on the wizard’s tunic. “If they’re putting all the keys into the same boxes…how do they know which key is ours?”
Chuck stopped. He looked at me, then back at the counter. Flicking back the rim of his hat, he scratched his forehead. “You know, I never thought about that.” Shrugging, he resumed walking, wagging an index finger. “But they do. I’ve always assumed that the magic tags the key with our blood…that way any of us can come back and grab it. Gypsies are clever that way.”
I wasn’t completely certain it made sense, but I nodded anyway and followed along. Again, the flow of traffic bottlenecked, corralled to the official entry hall. Chuck grabbed my sleeve and pulled me out of the way to hug against the wall. Dax jumped up to sit on the retaining wall next to us.
It was a simple, square room, not much wider than the hallway. It was lit by dozens of candles on metal stands, stones and alcoves, forming waterfalls of wax built up. Some areas had so much buildup, the wax now touched the floor. At the opposite end was a broad staircase of chiseled stone. Double doors were opened wide at the top of that staircase.
It was dark, the doorway, with small flecks of starlight glimmering overhead. A guard stood on either side of the stairs, barring the entrance.
Angled in a corner was a third guard. His tunic bright and clean, the bold yellow standing out in the candlelight. He stood lazily at a chest high podium, turning the page of a monstrous book. One by one, he called the names of the people in line.
A flowery sign hung from the front of the podium which read: Please Check In: It’s the Law.
“Morphiophelius Smith,” the guard called.
The wizard cleared his throat and stepped between the parting visitors.
“You’re back,” the man behind the book said dully. “How…wonderful,” he added, tight-lipped.
Chuck stepped forward, his posture relaxed. With both hands, he leaned on his staff. “Lucian,” he nodded ever-so-slightly, equally tight-lipped.
I’m not sure why, but my stomach tensed when I looked at this Lucian. There was a sudden urge to back away from this man at the podium. The two obviously didn’t like each other, and even the guards turned to look at Chuck when his name was called. I scratched at my chest nervously, feeling a little warm and constricted.
“Business or pleasure?” Lucian pursued.
The wizard grinned. “My pleasure, as always. I’m surprised to see you descend from on high to meddle with the likes of common visitors.”
Lucian’s eyes narrowed. “That is none of your business.” The corners of his mouth curled back tightly. “These are uncertain times, Morphiophelius. You never know who you can trust. Must keep my finger on the pulse of the Market, for security, of course.”
Chuck nodded. “Of course.” The wizard looked back to give Dax a nod and winked at me. Lucian dismissed the wizard with a wave of his hand, turning his attention back to the book. Though Chuck looked calm, his gaze lingered on Lucian until he’d reached the top step and entered the Market.
Lucian sneered with palatable contempt. “Dax, of Asa-Illariu.”
I heard a few people in line behind me snicker.
Stuffing a cigar into his mouth, Dax sauntered forward boldly. “Moving up in the world, I see, Lucian! Good for you,…though I always thought ya did a fair job as Iyl-Maddok’s errand boy. Buffin’ boots and haulin’ pales of goat dung.”
Chuckles arose from the line.
“Has it been 6 months already?” Lucian smiled, “My, how time flies.” Leaning over the podium, to stare down at Dax in more ways than one. “Should I hear of any trouble with your name attached, it will be a pleasure to strap you to the block.”
Dax took a long drag of his cigar, looked up, and produced the biggest smile I’d ever seen. “I’d like to see ya try, cupcake.”
“Ahh,” Lucian breathed smugly, “you forget that you only enter on my good word, my friend. If you cannot abide our laws, I will see that you enjoy the full measure of our penalties.”
Dax glared right back, maintaining that aggressive smile. “You forget,…Lucy,…that I go through this process out of courtesy. I don’t need one o’ yer damn port keys.”
Lucian’s eye visually twitched at the ridicule of his name, quickly covered with a smile. “Then,…we have an understanding?”
Dax puffed furiously on his cigar. “Oh, I understand you perfectly,” he said.
“You may enter.”
It was only now that it occurred to me I was all alone. Both my guardian and my mentor left me without instructing me. I watched my so-called guardian hop up the stairs and disappear through the doors without looking back.
I needed to pee.
Lucian’s eyes were already upon me, the smile of a jackal spreading across his face as he looked up from the book on the pedestal. However, that smile vanished as the name left his lips.
“Wendell…Percy…Dipmier?” he said, the surname in a hushed strain.
I cringed. H-how did he know my name??
Lucian paused, ignoring me, and stared back at the words. His fingers trace the line in the giant book. Confusion and dismay overcame his expression. When he looked back at me, he almost seemed angry. “That’s…” he shook his head and immediately fumbled through the pages of the immense book.
“Is there a problem,…sir?” I asked meekly. Just to make sure I was doing things right, I ended with a tiny bow at the shoulders. A little meekness wouldn’t hurt. When he didn’t respond, my eyes darting to the doors. What was going on?
Tha-Thump-Thump
There’s something wrong, and those jerks left me here, totally alone and without a clue of what to do if someone goes knife-happy on me!
Tha-Thump-Thump
Please let me pass. Oh, crap…is this what drug dealers feel like? I’m gonna get shot. No, wait, they don’t have guns.
Tha-Thump-Thump
Oh CRAP—I’m gonna get KNIFED! I started gnawing on my bottom lip. Of all the things I’d gone through in my brief life, no one has ever knifed me.
“I don’t WANT to be knifed,” Doubt whimpered.
The page turning became almost frantic until at last Lucian slammed the book closed. The Gypsy took several moments and slow, deep breaths before making eye contact. His lids narrowed and brows furrowed, lips curling back into a snarl.
“I don’t know how you did it,” he hissed in a whisper so low, I could hardly hear him. “But I’m watching you.”
“Is he talking to us?” Doubt peeped.
I’d never met this guy before…how could he be so upset with me? Completely confused, I looked to the left, to the right, then behind me. Everyone seemed to wear the same blank, confused stare I was sporting. Making eye contact once more, I pointed at myself while mouthing the word, ‘Me?’
Lucian pointed sharply at the stairs. “Enter,” he said through clenched teeth.
Frozen in shock, I couldn’t remember how to move my feet.
What just happened? What…did I do?
The farmer with sheep gave me a nudge from behind. “Go on, boy.” One of his animals followed it bumping the back of my legs.
Suddenly, I didn’t want to be there, under the scrupulous gaze of Lucian. I found my feet and scrambled up the stairs into the Market to find my companions.
Thing was, I couldn’t shake the unmistakable feeling that I was already in trouble.
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